


Pulling Rank

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Handcuffs, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: She means it as a half-joking threat, but it puts a delicious idea into Danse's head all the same. They haven't moved past idle kisses and secret hand-holding, but he's willing to delve a little outside of his comfort zone to get her to stop staring at that damn terminal.AU in which Danse is not banished from the Brotherhood after 'Blind Betrayal'.





	Pulling Rank

**Author's Note:**

> With all of the crazy political news, we just need a Danse fic. So I wrote one. Enjoy. :)

The first night off Danse has had in years, and the only person he wants to spend it with is absent.

'Typical' he thinks. Whenever Nora Clays is needed, she's nowhere to be found. He would've thought she would have at least shown her face on the main deck. It is, after all, a post-victory party that's as much to celebrate the downfall of the Institute as it is her promotion to Sentinel. Elder Maxson expects her to be there, as does everyone else, so Danse has his doubts that she'd be away from the Prydwen.

He forgets that she has her own quarters now, as befitting her newly awarded rank. She's a great lover of hard work during difficult times and the Paladin is the only person she's trusted with the knowledge that shore her in twain.

Nora had betrayed her own son (and her husband, in her eyes) by making the decision to stay with the Brotherhood. Ever since she'd returned from the Institute the first time, she's been an entirely different person. Danse can see in her eyes that she's permanently uncertain, always divided in her decision making. He wants to help her, to give her something back for all that she's done for him, but he doesn't feel as though he's adequately qualified to do so. 

He wants to see her smile the way she had when he'd made an utter fool of himself admitting his feelings, or rather the true extent of them, for her barely a week ago. Her smile is one of the things he fell in love with, amongst many other things. Danse has never been poetic, but he could write an entire anthology based upon her lips alone, their rosy softness, moist plumpness, and the way his heart damn near stops beating when her tongue darts out to catch an escaped drop of Nuka Cola (Cherry is her favourite, he recalls). He'd stopped hearing the harrowing clink of her wedding ring against the glass bottles not so long before the incident at Listening Post Bravo. He wonders if that was his cue, that she'd been trying to tell him she was ready to move on. He berates himself often for not noticing it sooner.

Danse slips away from the cacophony of hammered soldiers, drunken singing and joyous laughter. Nora's quarters aren't far from the celebrations, so he's not expecting her to be entirely pleasant, or hospitable. Still, that's something he's willing to put up with as long as she'll let him talk to her. He'd give anything to make her happy.

Nora's door is closed, he's not surprised to see. He raps his knuckles thrice against the cold steel surface before tentatively pushing it open. The Sentinel looks like she's about to throw something at him, like her coffee mug, the terminal on her desk, perhaps her combat knife if he's unlucky enough.

"No," she says firmly, pen poised to carry on writing as she regards him over the rim of her glasses.

"Glad we straightened that out..." Danse mutters, closing the door behind him.

"Don't mumble, dear," she advises like a pedantic mother.

"Why aren't you with everyone else?" he asks. "This is about you, your accomplishments."

Nora doesn't even look at him as she diverts her attention to the terminal. "I apologise for not being in particularly high spirits after murdering my own son," she says. "Besides, I don't drink, I hate parties and I have work to do."

Danse has always admired her honesty, but sometimes, it turns sharp and makes him flinch. "You deserve a break after everything you've done."

"I don't want one."

"That's besides the point."

"I think you'll find you no longer have the authority to give me orders."

Ouch...

"I'm worried about you," he tells her. "You need to take some time off or you're going to make yourself ill."

Nora sighs and removes her glasses, tucking them into the collar of her officer's uniform. It suits her, sleek and smart, tight in all the right places.

"Danse, that sort of thing has always been stressful for me," she explains. "This is relaxing. I like working and blowing feral's heads off. I hate attention. Now, if you don't mind..."

"Actually, I do," he says. "Why don't you head down, just for a little while, then you can get back to being clinically depressed."

"That's low, Danse," she says, jabbing her pen at him. "Leave me alone before I order you to."

"You're pulling rank on me?" he asks in disbelief.

"No," she responds stiffly. "Not yet. Carry on pushing boundaries, and I'll show you just how far 'pulling rank' can go."

She means it as a half-joking threat, but it puts a delicious idea into Danse's head all the same. They haven't moved past idle kisses and secret hand-holding, but he's willing to delve a little outside of his comfort zone to get her to stop staring at that damn terminal.

"What type of sanction did you have in mind?" Danse dares to ask, dark eyebrows low over smoldering brown eyes as he rests his hands on the table top.

"Danse, this desk already has a terminal on it and you're a big guy," she says, ignoring his question. "If you lean on it like that, it's going to break."

"All the more reason to reprimand me - Sentinel."

Nora swallows thickly. Danse knows she likes to be in charge, even if they haven't yet slept together and she feels the use of her title go straight to her clit. She squirms and he smirks, partially because it's working. He's seen her flirt for information before and he isn't stupid. He's not going to pretend he doesn't know what power play is and he's keen to get her away from that desk.

"Take off your clothes and lie on the bed, Paladin," Nora orders. Her commanding tone makes his cock twitch.

"Yes, ma'am," he grins and pulls down his uniform's zip. He would have been a little more nervous, but for the fact that he's already had a few glasses of Bourbon and they've had to undress in each other's presence numerous times, when collapsed buildings and bunkers didn't provide much space for separation.

After toeing out of his boots and tugging off the remainder of his suit, Danse reaches for his holotags (he reminds himself often that he wouldn't still have them if not for Nora's righteous selflessness), but the Sentinel stops him.

"Leave those on," she commands, her gaze fixed to his muscular chest where the metallic tags glint.

"What, you've got a kink for my holotags, now?" he teases.

Nora frowns, but there's a playfulness in her voice that makes his heart jump excitedly. "I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, other than to acknowledge orders, of course," she says. "Boxers off too, Paladin. Then lie down, arms above your head."

She so has a kink for his holotags.

He does as she asks, feeling more vulnerable than he's ever felt before. He starts to have second thoughts about this until she stands at the foot of the bed and drags her eyes over every inch of him, licking her lips at the sight of his half-hard cock.

"Don't you look gorgeous..." she purrs, trailing a few fingertips along his inner thigh and she hears him swallow. "You understand that this is a punishment for disturbing me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she smirks, stalking to her bedside table and pulling the draw open. "Close your eyes."

He does so promptly, chest rising and falling heavily in anticipation. He hears a soft clinking sort of sound and assumes she taking off her own tags, but the minute he feels metal against his wrists, he knows he might have bitten off more than he can chew, and he's aroused by it.

Nora chains him to the bars that serve as a headboard before joining him on the bed and straddling his hips. Her slim body, still clothed, slowly lowers over his and he hisses as the cold buckles make contact with his bare flesh. Her warm, sweet breath lingers over Danse's lips for just a moment before she just touches his with hers, a gentle kiss that raises hairs on the back of his neck. She does the same again a second and third time before taking his bottom lip between hers and sucking softly. She's teasing him, making him pant and strain at the cuffs when she stops.

"Eyes front, Paladin," she barks, pulling back far enough so that when he opens his eyes, they're not crossed in an effort to look at her. Suddenly, her voice is low and dangerous, a predatory glint taking shape in those green irises. "You break that headboard," she warns slowly, "and I'll have you across my knee. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he breathes and watches her mouth curl into a smirk. God, he loves those lips...

Nora slides down his body painstakingly slowly. Danse shudders and groans low in his throat as the metal fastenings on her suit rub over his hard cock. When her lips are above his head, Danse twitches in anticipation. Her tongue starts at his balls and works up steadily, pausing to swirl painstaking circles at the tip before sucking it teasingly.

Danse whines needilly, an admission of her dominance over him, and the thought that he's completely at her mercy is dizzying. His hips buck as she wraps her lips around his head and begins to take him in, inch by inch, sliding further down and he has to fight to stop himself from fucking her face.

"Please..." he begs as she pulls up just as slowly, but she ignores him, repeating the process again before closing her hand around his shaft.

"How on earth have you managed to hide this from me?" Nora muses. He's so big she can't even close her fingers around him properly. "What do you want, Danse?"

"More," he pleads, his eyes closed as he shakes beneath her.

Nora tuts and shakes her head disapprovingly. "That's not how you address your superior, Paladin."

He has to think hard about what she wants him to do. The pleasure is simultaneously overwhelming, yet not enough and he's finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

"Please, ma'am," he says. "More, please..."

The Sentinel gives a satisfied hum. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" She takes one of his balls into her mouth and sucks, rubbing his length and Danse sighs, half in pleasure, half in frustration because it's still not enough. He's drawing closer to release, but all too slowly.

Nora's mouth returns to his cock and she bobs her head, placing her hands on his hips to keep him still. He clenches his bound fists and restrains from bucking upwards, groaning and panting heavily. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead and Nora's eyes lift, just enough to see his tense abdominal muscles. God, that's hot...

She slides off him with a wet 'pop', although she keeps pumping his shaft and watching his abdomen. "Fuck my hand, Danse," she says. "That's an order." He raises his knees to obtain better leverage and starts to thrust into her hand. The cuffs scrape against the metal wrungs with the pressure he's exerting, so she squeezes him, just shy of painfully, and says; "Remember what I said about the headboard, Paladin."

He gasps, hot and tired and desperate all at once. The coil in his gut is growing tighter and he steals a glance at Nora in that skin tight black suit. It clings to her rounded breasts and full hips, curving at the swell of her backside and looks like it's been sprayed onto her toned thighs. She's watching the rhythmic spasms in his muscles with a degree of fascination that makes him blush, but it's not visible against the flush that covers his face and neck.

Danse is so close to release that he's shaking, head thrown back against the pillow as he grunts in pleasure. Just as he thinks he's hit the point of no return, that she'll let him fuck himself out, she pulls back her hand. The pleasure begins to fade, sweet release evading the Paladin and he looks up at her, dark eyes pleading with her. Nora isn't having any of it. She smirks once more and bites her lip, hands stroking over his thighs.

"I'm not going to let you off lightly, paladin," Nora says. "I mean it. I'm pissed that you'd even ask me to go down there and... Mingle. This is so much better."

Danse swallows nervously. Nora has never been a merciful woman. He wonders how long she plans to keep this up, edging him until he begs for release. Judging by the way her fingertips barely skim his balls before retreating, he's going to be here for a little while longer.

"This is even more fun than it looked in porn movies," Nora muses, tickling his inner thighs before lightly dragging her nails down his abdomen. Danse twitches at every touch. "The things I'd love to do to you, Danse... You have no idea..."

He can only imagine what kind of pleasurable tortures are going through her mind, but he doesn't have the opportunity to think for very long, because as soon as the curling in his abdomen fades, Nora begins once more, taking the entirety of his cock into her mouth.

She deepthroats him for as long as she can without coming up for air, but her rhythm is slow and deep, forcing him to remain still to avoid choking her. When his thighs tremble, she releases him again. Danse knows he won't last very long, but he isn't used to slow and persistent teasing. He's gone far beyond desperation, his carefully constructed control having broken away with Nora's tentative touch.

The Sentinel wraps both of her hands around his aching length and pumps slowly, earning herself a heady groan and a sharp buck of Danse's hips. He vaguely remembers begging, pleading with her and at last, when he fears he's near his breaking point and he could snap open the cuffs with the sheer strength his need provides, she sucks and licks his cock as though her life depends on it. It only takes a minute before burning desire gives way to intense bliss and the world stops spinning, Danse stops breathing and the only person who matters is Nora. She moves back a little to give herself room to swallow and the Paladin releases a long sigh, laced with the low rumble of a pleasured moan as he climaxes.

After Nora has licked him clean, she unlocks the handcuffs and plants little kisses over his wrists. Danse stretches and suddenly, he doesn't feel very much like moving, far less like getting dressed again-

Oh.

Nora's worn him out deliberately so she won't have to leave her quarters. He'll give her credit, she's clever, but he doesn't really care anymore. She curls up by his side, her head resting against his shoulder and flicks off the light (trust Nora to have the switch right above her bed). With a gentle nip to his earlobe she whispers; "goodnight, Paladin" and lays an arm across his chest. He mumbles an incoherent reply and surrenders to sleep, caught in her embrace and willing to spend a lifetime in her arms.


End file.
